


Gentleman Guardian Magellan

by mosu_mosu



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (TV), That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Sailor Moon, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosu_mosu/pseuds/mosu_mosu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TGWTG/Sailor Moon AU crossover. Mathew Buck, not yet a fully-realized film critic, is somewhat unwillingly entrusted with the power of the planet Venus, just as an ancient evil begins to rise again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1

  
A young man, deathly pale with fright, stands next to you as you turn your head back to the scene below the balcony. Your eyes are sore, your vision a mere haze, but you make a decision quickly and run off, dragging him behind you.

You’re stopped by a mirror, and in the reflection, you make yourself out -- brisk, brown skin, golden hair, and bloodshot blue eyes.

You throw up your arms and grab a sword from your belt, slamming it into the glass and shattering it. He cowers beneath the shattering glass before you grab him again and pull him through the small tunnel. It empties into a deserted courtyard, decorated lavishly for a special occasion. You take a right, still running, and look back at him. Suddenly, you nearly trip over a body near the end of the wall. You look at the desecrated ground ahead of you, then at the person on the other side of the room. You recognize him, and his bloodied white robes.

He begins to walk towards you.

* * *

Mathew shot up from the bed, panting and looking around nervously. Noticing nothing was wrong, he relaxed and pulled off his covers, then got out of bed. He sighed, walking up to the mirror. He ran his hand through his hair, creating rough waves in his dirty blond mop. He shook it back out, groaning at himself, and glared at his arms.

Deep channels of scars ran down the skin of his arms. He traced them absently, feeling underneath his elbows. Just under his left elbow he had a circle, and on the other elbow, he had a cross. The rest of his arms had more abstract signs -- elaborate curls, curves, and sudden dimples, as if some ancient language had been inscribed upon him.

He sighed deeply and looked to his closet, the doors of which were covered in movie posters, and tossed a stack of DVDs blocking his path onto the bed. He opened the door, pulling out a jacket, a shirt, and a pair of jeans -- as complex an outfit as he could muster. He always found a jacket enough to cover his scars -- he never really liked them, but felt a strange attachment to them. They had a strange allure, as if they radiated beauty from their tissues.

Of course, we’re talking about a bunch of weird scars on some average-looking guy’s arms. It’s only natural that they’d be covered up. Mathew didn’t really have a reason to show them off. He was a bit on the doughy side, to be honest, and his hair grew shaggy and unkempt for months at a time in years past. (Unsurprisingly, of course. Most English boys take similar attitudes towards hair in their adolescence, after all.)

On the whole, he found himself incredibly average, or wholly unattractive depending on the day.

Perhaps it’s rather telling how he tends to scrutinize himself at times, such as before his shower, in the shower, or after his shower, in the mirror.

Thank goodness, for him and for us, that mirrors usually fog up.

  


Moving swiftly on, a now fully-dressed Matt tumbled back into his room, throwing his dirty clothes into the laundry basket. He stood pensively, forgetting what he was going to do next. He looked around his room, searching for some sort of reminder.

On an average-sized wardrobe next to the door sat various sundries, a few framed photos, and a pair of socks he’d laid out for himself. He shrugged and gently picked up one of the photo frames, then blew off a thin layer of dust from its glass.

It was a photo of his family -- a rather old and generic one at that. He couldn’t have been any older than 3 or 4 when it was taken. He took another photo off the shelf, setting the other one back in its place.

This photo was of his parents in a foreign country -- they had made their mark managing and doing charity and relief work for the disadvantaged. It was the most recent photo he’d had -- from December of 2003, when he was 13. In fact, they had written “Happy birthday! See you at Christmas” on it, although as the years passed, it grew less legible.

He did see them for Christmas, but it seemed that as soon as they had come, they had left. They made a lot of money for their work, indeed, but after then, he’d never spent Christmas with them again. His brother and uncle told him their work had become intense, that such breaks had to become infrequent.

His life still seemed empty without them.

  


He set the photo back down on the wardrobe, a little sobered by the memories it’d brought back. He gulped and turned to his desk. A desk calendar in dire need of attention sat on top, along with his computer and some of his DVDs. He groaned and picked the calendar up.

As a joke last Christmas, his friends bought him a calendar of some pretty Asian singer-songwriter, Mina Aino, and while they intended for him to be embarrassed by the gift, he admitted that it was pretty useful to have an extra calendar for when the power went out, even if it did have some random pop-ish girl on it. He pulled off a small chunk of pages, to finally bring it to 27 June 2009, today’s date. There was nothing written on it (as writing on a future date in a desk calendar is rather precarious) but at least the picture was cute.

She was wearing a blonde wig (oh, it sure had to be a wig) with a big red ribbon in it, and she was cutely posed in a practical orange dress, holding a red heart-shaped electric guitar. It was more than a bit gaudy, but whatever. He didn’t have any say, what with his fashion sense. He couldn’t have dressed her better.

His phone buzzed violently on his desk. He frantically picked up.

“Hey, Mathew,” his friend Chris said, “are you at the cinema yet? I’m heading out the house. I hope you didn’t forget anything.”

“Y-yeah, man, I’m on my way,” he said, freezing in place.

“I’ll see you, then.”

“See you,” Mathew said, and briskly shut his phone. His face turned to an embarrassed frown, and he quickly pulled his socks on, grabbed his keys from a hook on his door, and rushed out of the house, locking the door behind him. He took off on the sidewalk, rushing down the road.

  


The film they were about to see had a strange draw to it -- every critic and amateur praised it to no end, yet all the summaries he’d seen were of a movie that seemed distinctly unworthy of praise. It was a rather schlocky-looking flick about a group of thick-accented foreign sisters whose vampiress matron attempts to seduce a strapping young English heir, or some other nonsense. The summaries in the reviews frequently became blurred by the praising tone. A frequent subject was its content, which, although it seemed overzealous and annoying, was met with undying glee.

“The black guy died first! That’s so surprising!” one person had written.

“I was so excited when the fortune teller had the next scene show through her crystal ball!” another had said.

“You have to see the scene where the vampire baby is born! The blood goes everywhere!” sounded like a common point of praise.

Each review in succession became more and more of a groaner, almost approaching agony. It was practically soul-crushing.

In addition, the film screened in only one cinema in the country at a given time. Although it did run multiple times in a given place, they showed rather far apart. The release company was rather obscure -- some sort of Dark Agency or something -- so it seemed like that was the only kind of deal they could afford.

Chris and Mathew crossed paths in front of the cinema. Chris turned on the balls of his feet, pulling at the strap of his bag.

“Hey, you got here just in time!” he said, rocking back onto his heels. “Are you ready for pain?”

Mathew chuckled. “I guess so.”

Chris shook his head, smiling. “We can’t stall much longer.”

The two walked inside.

* * *

Fluorite sat down at her office desk, attentive towards the man in front of her.

“Things are going well, Miss Sparr. W-We’ve made back the budget for Draculetta,” a young man croaked nervously.

“Well, it’s not like it was that much money,” Fluorite rasped.

“I made do with what I had, ma’am,” he squeaked.

“Alright, then,” Fluorite said, and rummaged through the folder he had placed on her desk.

The placard on her desk said not Fluorite, but Florence Sparr, her assumed name in the human world. After all, it was far easier to operate an agency under a friendly name, or rather, one that wasn’t already that of an object.

“Very good,” she said, handing the folder back to him. “Go on and keep watching the numbers.”

To prepare for the return of the Dark Kingdom, it was only natural that a smaller group should come first. Fluorite was the current head of the Dark Agency, and in order to facilitate the rebirth of her master Danburite, it was of the utmost priority that the energy of humans’ souls was gathered. Only when enough energy had accumulated would they be able to raise him again.

For now, his bloodied robes from ancient times laid under glass in the lobby, neatly folded and disguised as an art piece.

* * *

“We’re seeing a movie that sounds absolutely dreadful, and all you bought was a lemonade?”

“Do you think I’m made of money, man?”

“You’ve got to go a little further for something like this.”

“Would you be satisfied if I brought some vodka?”

“Give me a break, mate.”

Chris and Mathew quietly bickered as they went to the back row of the screening room. Mathew uncomfortably plopped down into his seat, and Chris set his bag down beneath his feet.

“I’m just saying you’re probably going to regret it,” Chris concluded. He turned to Mathew and grinned. In response, he raised an eyebrow.

The pre-showing adverts gave way to rather average-looking trailers. They were all for movies the two were already aware of -- ultimately, it seemed rather normal.

At once, the lights flickered out, as is the norm, and the screen flashed white. Suddenly, an elaborate but utterly alien-seeming insignia filled the screen, and a high-pitched noise filled the ears of the audience. Mathew clutched his head, shutting his eyes, and Chris held his ears. The symbol became even stranger, and the sound changed form, seemingly burrowing itself into the minds of the audience.

It stopped, and the film began as normal. Chris seemed dazed, and Mathew just chose to rest his head in his hand.

* * *

The emaciated spectral form of Draculetta fluttered through the projection room and pulled down the collar of an obedient technician. Her nails scraped down the nape of his neck, and she smiled as the film rolled.

* * *

“My dotouhs and I came vrom ze hills in the East. Ve are pleasent peeple iv you keep to our intrests.”  
The main character’s annoying slurring quickly got to Mathew’s head.

* * *

Draculetta’s smile widened unnaturally, and she placed her wispy hands on the digital projectors.

* * *

“David, ve all love you!” the youngest sister chirped.  
“Oh, ladies, you all have my heart! But it is you, Lauretta, who seizes my soul and my lifeblood.”  
“It vould be unvortunate iv some ov ahs vere to part...”  
Chris slouched, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Mathew moaned and turned to him.  
“I’m going to go and take a break outside, or in the lobby or something. I feel really crappy right now. My head hurts like hell,” he whispered.  
“I’m going to refill the drinks,” Chris replied quietly, and the two stumbled out. The rest of the audience stayed silent and stationary.

* * *

Draculetta phased into the projectors, her body thinning away into the light. She reassembled as a 3D spectre, stepping out of the screen. She reached out into the crowd, and at once, a strange power swept across them. Their jaws went slack, and she drew energy from their bodies. She smiled as it pooled into a black gem in her hand.

* * *

Mathew rushed up the stairs towards the restrooms, but his head ached from the light and noise of the cinema’s upper level. In search of peace, he opened an unmarked door, nearly falling into the dark room. He propped himself up by the doorknob, twisting himself into an upright position.

He panted for a moment. He turned one of the light switches on, letting dim light into the room. He walked around the corner of the room to find a set of monitors hooked to what appeared to be a small supercomputer.

Three chairs sat in front of the monitors. Mathew carefully approached them.

Seated perfectly in the center chair was a tiny white cat doll with big green eyes and a crescent-shaped patch on its forehead. The chair gently turned around, without him having touched it. Mathew yelped, and slammed his back into the wall. His breath heaved, and the doll turned into a real cat with a flash of green magic.

There was a long pause as the two stared at each other.

“The bloody hell are you?” Mathew muttered.

The cat jumped off the chair and swirled around Mathew’s legs.

“Nothing too special, mister.”

“My question’s gone unanswered.”

“That’s not as important as you think.”

“I am conversing with a talking cat and that is the unimportant part? Is it really?”

“That’s about right,” the cat said, and wagged his tail.

“What could you have to tell me that’s more important than the name of a bloody talking cat?”

“There’s an important duty that needs to be carried out, okay? And it just so happens you’re the only one for the job.”

“And you waited in a dark room at the local cinema for me.”

“I don’t know where you live! This whole Chosen One shtick is harder to carry out than you think, buddy. Besides, I knew you’d come here.”

“Okay, forget about the whole prediction thing. What do you want?”

“Well,” the cat began. “I am Artemis of Mau, advisor to the ancient Moon Kingdom. You, sir, have extraordinary physical and mental strength. Truly, Mr. Buck, you are a man among men. You’ve been chosen.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on there. I’m not even gonna think about how you know any of that, because, let’s be honest, none of that is true. I’m barely manly at all, okay? Why would you choose me to take a position that requires that kind of ability?”

“Power like that doesn’t already have to exist. You have the potential to achieve those things, I know it. And I didn’t choose you personally. It was merely a force of nature that led me to you.”

Mathew held out his hand in frustration. “I’m sorry, what part of nature --”

“Shut up and let me show you something,” the cat snapped, and in a flash of light, a golden compact materialized in Mathew’s hand.

“Open it up and look into the mirror. The person I speak of, if you’re so inclined to deny it’s you, will appear to you. That person is who you really are. He is the person I see within you. I hope you won’t still try to doubt me after this.”

Mathew sighed and opened the compact. He blinked, and made a perturbed face.

His reflection was different in a rather strange way. His hair was a brighter shade, and his eyes became a more radiant blue. The symbol of Venus shone upon his forehead, and the longer he gazed, the brighter it glowed.

In a moment, they were no longer on Earth.

Rather, they were in fucking space.

  


“Where are we?!” Mathew yelled. He frantically looked around, trying to figure out his surroundings. Artemis quietly wagged his tail.

Beneath their feet was an invisible field, protecting them from the elements (or rather, lack thereof), and far beneath that was the atmosphere of the planet Venus.

Between the talking cat, the insistence of ancient divine intervention, the materialization of a soul-reflecting mirror from absolutely nothing, and instant transportation to outer space, Mathew decided the physics of all this were really not worth dwelling too hard on.

“We’re in near-Earth space. I thought you’d recognize it,” Artemis said.

“Yes. I know the place like the back of my hand due to my frequent visits to bloody space.” Artemis’s ear twitched at Mathew’s sarcasm. He sighed and turned to face the planet.

“Although as a Sagittarius, you were born under Jupiter, Venus is the planet that guards your heart,” he said.

“Is that so?” Mathew muttered.

“Okay, yeesh. I’ll get to the point, okay?” Artemis groaned. In a flash, they were in another place.

  


A pristine, reflective orange floor extended to their sides. A plush navy carpet stretched beneath their feet, to a golden throne in front of them and down a magnificent quartz staircase behind. The ceiling of rose-tinted glass appeared to be a pyramid. Solid gold pillars held up the center of each triangle. The stars glimmered through the glass of the walls and ceiling.

“This is the castle of the Venusian royalty, whose culture flourished during centuries past. It has remained dormant over Aphrodite Terra since the people of the Solar System died out many generations ago,” Artemis explained. “Because the Princess of Venus was reborn on Earth, this castle belongs to her. However, you are the one who now bears the powers of Venus, therefore it is also yours. Specifically, this half is. This is the throne room of the king of Venus.” He nodded towards the throne.

“They split the castle down the middle?” Mathew said, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of couples were these people?”

“It’s not about feuds. This is just for safety. If some threat would dare to take the castle, they’d have to wreck it one half at a time. That’s assuming all the other lines of defense don’t take in, of course. Like that over there,” Artemis said, and jumped up onto a windowsill.

Mathew looked out of the glass at a large crystalline structure. It glowed intensely with an orange and pink light, drawing Mathew towards it with its sheer power. Artemis sat calmly with his tail curled around his body.

“What is that?”

“That’s the Venus Crystal, the source of the planet’s power. It’s the force that chose you. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what will happen to you. Nevertheless, the duty it presents is an important one.”

“What am I supposed to do? Why should I do it? What’s keeping me from saying no?”

Artemis growled for a moment, and Mathew’s knees gave way. He clutched his head, moaning.

Information rushed into his head, flickering through his mind. Years and years of history flowed into him, quickening up in pace, until a sudden dwindling and resurgence slammed into his head. He panted as he grasped at the floor, then at last, it ended.

“That is my record of memory,” Artemis said. “Thousands of years’ worth of war, peace, and prosperity, of cataclysms and miracles, have been poured into your skull.”

Mathew could only groan in response.

“Perhaps it’ll put some padding in for that brain of yours.”

Mathew fell limp, and Artemis laid in silence. After a quiet minute, Mathew regained his composure and sat up.

“...D-did you expect me to just...accept what you said the first time? That I’d just...know what you were talking about and let you have your way with me?”

“I did,” Artemis said, and turned his ears back for a moment. “The last person I sought out was aware of these things, even if only a little. She had memories of the way her life was before. I thought the same would apply to you.”

“...I didn’t know....”

“Perhaps there is something else keeping you from remembering. I can only recall the things I was there to experience, or that was found notable enough to record.”

“What does that mean?”

“The last Princess of Venus died by my side in battle. I chose to flee to preserve myself and the historical records I had, and after the Silver Crystal sent all of the past citizens of the Solar System to be reincarnated on Earth, I found her again in the 21st century. She remembered who she was before. I assume it may be due to the influence of the Venus Crystal. It’s possible that you had nothing of that sort to remember your past life by.”

“...So you don’t know who I was in my past life?”

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure at this point. Something about it, however, made you compatible to bear the Venus Crystal and fight with its power.”

“How peculiar.”

Artemis’s tail curled.  
“Your planet is being threatened as we speak. Fight for your world of incandescent heat,” Artemis began. “and in the name of Venus, Earth’s twin, for the sake of all of us.”

Mathew rubbed his neck. “...What kind of risk will it be?”

“...I don’t know how big this threat is. I’ll be honest with you. But, I must reiterate, you are the only man for the job.”

Mathew hung his head, then brought it back up. “Okay.”

Artemis shut his eyes. “Good.”

A silver bracelet clasped tightly around Mathew’s wrist.

* * *

Draculetta clasped her hand around the gem, grinning and turning on her feet to face the screen again. She raised her hand, and it began to waste away back into the light as she cackled.

Chris walked back in.

She turned to him, hissing from her failed teleportation.

He stammered as she extended her claws towards him.

She took a wild swing at him, and he dashed away, setting his things down and unclipping his strap from his bag. He threw the lid of a glasses recycling bin off, tossed his bag inside, wound the strap around one fist, then picked the lid back up with the other. She lunged at him, and he threw the lid in front of him, making her crush it. Her wrists knocked together, and he ran the strap around them, pulling her down. With seconds to spare, he began to rush out.

As he ran, he slammed into Mathew running in.

“Are you okay?” Mathew said, looking Chris up and down.

“I don’t know!” he replied, panicking.

Draculetta pulled Mathew by the collar, running him into the theater and slamming him against a front-row seat.

He choked out a gasp. She raised her hand high, her talons glistening in the light of the projector, aiming to strike.

In an instant, he knew what to do.

He threw his arms to the side, then crossed his wrist over his elbow.

“Venus Power, Make Up!”

Flipping himself backwards into the air, Mathew became enveloped in an intense orange glow, its power changing him and shaping him into another form. As quickly as it had started, it died out, and he was left poised atop the back of a theater seat.

“Vat do you sink youah dooing?!” Draculetta hissed. “I von’t let schome dolled-up tvat intervere vis my plans!” She lowered her head and hissed louder, baring her long fangs.

Mathew cringed at her voice, then calmly crossed his arms.  
  
  
  
  
“Well, I won’t let you hurt innocent people! How dare you prey upon any of my fellow moviegoers, whether they had the good taste to avoid this or not!”

“Look at youah heroism! Youah defenze ov zese foolz, ven vizzin momentz, you look down upon zem fo zer choice t’day! Eezn’t eet only feir that I should steel zeir enah-gee, if zey’ve chozen so badly?”

“No,” Mathew said.

“Very vell,” she replied. “You pose a gut challenj. Perhapz you schall eentroduce yourzelf, before I utterly crusch you?”

Mathew uncrossed his arms, then set his hands on his hips.

“I am the sailor-suited soldier of love and justice, Magellan! In the name of Venus, love and be loved!” He pointed at Draculetta.

She reared, stretching out her fingers.

“I am Draculetta! Fear me!”

She lunged at him, slashing at his thigh. He tumbled over, catching himself with a pair of armrests. He swung his leg around, slamming her shoulder, then leaped off into the walkway.

In a moment, she slammed him against the wall. He cringed, shaking under her grip, and she tried to slowly slice his skin. As her talons dragged across him, they screeched like a knife scratching steel. She stared at him, gently clenching her fist. She shifted her head to his neck, sniffing at his veins. Paralyzed, Magellan could only gaze behind her at the limp bodies in the seats.

She pulled away from him, readying her fangs to pierce his neck, and he crossed his arms to press his fingers to his lips. He slammed his palms into her shoulders, sending her flying back into the seats with a burst of energy.

Chris ran up to Magellan, grabbed his hand, and pulled at him.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he said, and looked up at Magellan.

“I have a plan,” he replied, and nudged at the strap still in Chris’s hand. “You can use that, right?”

“Yeah,” Chris said. “I’d rather not, though.”

“That gives me an idea,” Magellan stated calmly. He held his hand out, the charms of the bracelet dangling down from his wrist, and lifted it sharply. The bracelet turned into a golden chain, and he grasped it firmly as Draculetta got up.

He strung the chain along his fingers, and grasped one of the hanging links with his other hand. He pulled it through his fingers, turning it into a rope of light, and swung it around Draculetta, forming a tight bind. He ran to the other wall, taking her with him, and hesitated for a moment as she writhed.

He pulled a compact from his pocket, and lifted it into the air, pointing the mirror at Draculetta. He moved it clockwise, and it gradually shone brighter as he moved it back to its original position. A crescent-shaped plane of energy formed in the circle the compact had moved in, and he pulled the compact back and pushed it through the center, gathering the energy into the mirror.

He hoisted it above his head, pointing the mirror to the ceiling.

“Crescent Beam Shower! Rain down upon us!”

The energy shot from the mirror, then split into beams that dropped down upon the crowd. In a burst of light, the crowd returned to normal.

In front of Magellan, a disheveled young woman in a red dress sat limply on the floor. Her hand opened, revealing her gem, and she slowly regained consciousness.

“Are you alright?” Magellan said quietly, holding out his hand. She took it and slowly stood up, her dress rippling gracefully.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, and held the gem up to him. “Take this. I don’t have any use for it.”

After a moment of contemplation, Magellan plucked it from her hand and put it in his pocket.

“Thanks,” he said, and she held out her other hand. They shook, and she pulled out a card.

“Here, take this too. If you ever need me, don’t hesitate to call. I owe you one.” She smiled, turned, and left, as if nothing had happened.

Magellan and Chris stood dumbfounded as the audience got up and left. Magellan turned the card in his fingers.

On the back, there was a small photo of the woman, whose olive skin and black hair embraced her slender features. On the front, her name -- Grace Linden -- and her contact information were laid out on the left, with a cute drawing of her in a fluffy magical girl suit on the right. The logo of the Dark Agency was in the corner, and Magellan’s eyes stopped on it. He took a deep breath, and he slipped the card into his pocket.

Chris pulled his bag out and hooked his strap back onto it, then picked up the rest of his things. He looked at Magellan, pondering what to do next. The last of the other people in the audience filtered out.

Magellan turned his chain back into a bracelet. He held up his hand, pointing his palm outwards. He swung his hand down sharply, and he changed back to Mathew in a flash of light. He pat down his pockets and, finding that everything was back to normal, took Chris by the arm and led him out.

  


They climbed the stairs in the lobby and walked up to the unmarked door. Mathew tried the doorknob, but it seemed to be locked. He thought for a moment. He took the Venus charm of his bracelet into his other hand and pushed the cross end into the keyhole. He turned the lock, and the door opened.

The lights were on, and Artemis was sitting in the chair.

“I assume you were successful,” he said, waving his tail.

“Yeah, I guess,” Mathew replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. Chris timidly looked between them.

“What’s all this about?” Chris asked, folding his arms.

Artemis’s ears turned back, and he sniffed Chris from a distance.

“Well, I just want to tell you that you’re part of something very important,” Artemis said, tucking his arms underneath his body.

Chris opened his mouth to question him, but Matt held his shoulder sharply.

“For now, I want that stone she gave you,” Artemis said.

“What are you going to do with it?” Mathew asked.

“I’m going to eat it. I eat rocks and gems,” Artemis said, his ear turning back at his own ridiculous lie. “Grey ones are the tastiest of all, and I am very, very, hungry.” Mathew’s eyes widened in shock. “And no, they’re not worth any money, mister.”

Matt rolled his eyes and put the gem down on the table in front of Artemis.

“You may go,” Artemis said, stretching out and sitting.

“Alright, then,” Mathew said. He slowly walked out of the room, expecting Artemis to add something snarky in response. However, he said nothing.

  


Chris and Mathew walked out of the cinema. Mathew pulled out his stub. Instead of a stub for Draculetta, it was for Transformers 2.

“That’s just odd,” Mathew said, furrowing his brow.

“What’s up?” Chris asked. He looked down at the tickets. “Oh. That is really odd.”

“Chris,” Mathew began, “Do you think history actually got rewritten so that movie never even existed? And that we’re probably the only people in the world who remember it?”

“I don’t know. That sounds really far-fetched,” Chris replied. “But the things  you were already doing would be hard to believe too. I guess it’s all relative.”

“Speaking of relativity, is it better or worse that everybody else remembers having seen Transformers 2 instead of that movie?”

“I have no idea,” Chris said, and they both chuckled. They walked to Mathew’s house to watch a movie of their own choice. Preferably one without any wooden dialogue or unintelligible vampire women...


	2. Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TGWTG/Sailor Moon AU crossover. Mathew Buck, still trying to comprehend his newfound powers, struggles against an evil arcade game, all while meeting a slew of new (and familiar) faces.

Your partner rolls out from under the van, twirling a wrench in his fingers. He sighs as you walk up to him.“It’s not exactly easy trying to recalibrate these weapon systems,” he says. “They’re pretty outdated. That, and this girl’s not meant for battle.”

“Does it work?” you ask.

“Looks like it,” he says, and wipes off some oil from his face. “I’ll check up on it, though. Can’t be too sure.”

“Good,” you say, and you walk around.

* * *

Mathew hazily woke up from his nap. He sat up, rubbing his forehead. “Why was I dreaming about car repair?” he groaned, turning around.

The dim light of an afternoon rain filtered through the window. He turned back and shrugged. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, then idly fingered through his bracelet, laying the silver charm gently onto his finger.

He bit his lip in concentration, then tugged at the bracelet, but it wouldn’t budge. He fumbled with the clasp, only to find it was welded shut. He panicked and bit at it, but it wouldn’t move. He let go of it and sighed deeply.

He looked around the room and made his decision. He cracked his knuckles and held up his hands. He threw out his arms and crossed his wrist over his elbow.

“Venus Power, Make Up,” he mumbled, and in a flash of light, he was Magellan. He immediately prodded at his clothing -- such was the reason for his transformation -- and pulled off his gloves.

His scars were reddened, but not evenly. The more constructive curves were brighter than the abstract lines and dimples, as if some script were highlighted on his arms. He shrugged and held up his hands, then nearly jumped. His fingernails were tinted a bright yellow-orange.

He slowly put his hands down and pulled out the compact from his pocket. He opened it and looked into the mirror. His eyes scanned all over his face. He could only slightly recognize himself, although he wasn’t sure if it was because his face had changed or because something was fogged up in his mind.

He set down the compact and untied his scarf. One of the ends of his scarf was much longer than the other, to accommodate the knot. The scarf was a pleasant navy blue, to match the stripes on his shirt. He tossed it onto the bed and pulled off his shirt. He picked up the compact again and tilted it towards his chest. He moved it around.

There had always been scars on his chest, but they had faded more quickly than the scars on his arms had. His chest hair had grown over most of them, anyway. There was a deep, large, round depression on the side of his torso, with a matching one on the other side. As Magellan, though, they weren’t easy to notice.

He ran his hand down the front of his chest, feeling over the channels in his skin.

The door opened.

“Hey, lil’ bro, you’ve got to see this guy on the news, he looks kinda like you -- oh.”

Martin’s excited face slowly faltered into a confused one at the sight in front of him.

“Well, that explains everything,” he said promptly, and tried to shut the door.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Magellan said, and held the door open. “On the news?”

“That’s right,” Martin said. “You wanna see it?”

“Yeah,” Magellan said, and tried to go through the door.

“Put on a shirt.”

* * *

Four hours earlier, Minako Aino adjusted herself in the mirror of her hotel suite. She pulled on a big pair of bug-eyed sunglasses and pulled up her hair, then placed a soft beret on her head. She smiled at herself in the mirror, and her blue-haired assistant laid her purse in front of her. Minako fumbled through it, pulling out her wallet. Her assistant raised an eyebrow, but she shrugged it off. She took her assistant by the wrist, and they left the room together.

* * *

Magellan grumbled as he walked into the living room, straightening out his shirt and standing behind the couch. His brother plopped down in front of the TV.

Magellan became absorbed by the media coverage folding out before him. Grainy theatre security footage detailed Draculetta’s seizure of the projector room, her possession of the crowd, and Chris’s struggle against her.

“This is what happened while I was gone?” he mumbled, and Martin looked up at him, then shrugged and turned back.

“Due to its fantastic nature, the footage has been claimed by forensic experts as being part of a viral Internet campaign for popular singer-songwriter Mina Aino’s upcoming album, In the Name of Venus. However, when asked for comment, Aino appeared to be unaware of the events. We’ll be back soon with any updates.”

“Slow news day,” Martin said, smirking, and turned around.

Magellan stood up straight. “Well, er...”

“So that’s you?”

“Well...yeah. Yeah, that is me,” Magellan replied.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Martin said, and gave a friendly swing to his brother’s arm. His fist ricocheted, nearly making him hit himself in the face, and he clutched it in mild pain. “Wow, you really are some kind of superhero.”

Magellan groaned as Martin turned completely around, standing on his knees on the couch. “You gotta show me something! Give me a whollop, Supes!”

“No,” Magellan said.

“Yes!” Martin shouted, putting up his fists in excitement.

“No!” Magellan moaned.

Martin grabbed Magellan’s wrist, making his palm face outwards. Magellan struggled to get out, and sharply swung his hand down.

In a flash of light, Magellan was Mathew, and Mathew had not yet dressed. Martin looked up to him.

“Why don’t you have any trousers?” he whispered, and Mathew stomped away.

Now dressed properly, Mathew opened his bedroom window for fresh air. As he turned away to attend to his computer, the curtains fluttered suddenly.

“Hello, mister!” Artemis chimed as his slinky kitty body popped in through the window.

“Yaugh! God! Oh, god! What the hell?!” Mathew squealed, scrambling backwards.

“Hey, hey, calm down, it’s just me,” Artemis said, his tone of voice smoothing out.

“That’s even worse!” Mathew said, and he clamored out of his room.

“Come back here!” Artemis yelled.

Mathew crashed into the back of the couch, nearly going facefirst into the cushions. Martin giggled at him, and someone stomped up behind him.

“You better come back here this instant, mister!”

The two brothers turned around and gazed into the deep green eyes of Artemis, which happened to now be within the body of a young white-haired black man.

“I swear, you better listen to me this instant, young man, or --”

“Oh my god!” Martin screamed, and thrust himself into Mathew’s arms. “Who the hell is that?!”

“Artemis!” Mathew shouted.

“What?” Artemis said, throwing up his arms. “I look normal, don’t I? What’s so surprising?”

“How old are you?!” Martin said shakily.

“That’s confidential information,” Artemis said, and stormed up to Mathew. “I have something very important to tell you,” he said sternly to Mathew.

Martin gaped and started to stammer. “Brother, you better tell me --”

“I’m not your brother! You’re his brother!” Artemis snapped.

“That’s not what he’s talking about, Artemis,” Mathew groaned.

“Who is Artemis?! Is this Artemis?!” Martin yelled hoarsely.

“You two shut up!’ Artemis screeched. Finally receiving his silence, he brought his finger up to Mathew. “I’m taking you to the theater.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” Mathew said, putting a palm between the two of them. “Do you know how to get around here?”

“Do you know how ridiculous you look?!” Martin said, clutching his brother closer.

“Are we on this again?” Artemis moaned.

“He’s got a point. A guy looking like you comes down the street and everybody’s turning heads.” Mathew said, his posture slouching.

“Might I reiterate, don’t I look normal?!”

“No! No, you don’t!” Mathew snapped. “No self-respecting man walks down the street in all white with a belly-button cutout in his turtleneck, holding up his pant legs with criss-cross garters!”

“I look elegant and refined! This is period fashion!”

“Yeah, and that period is 1990 to 1999, buddy! Nobody dresses like that anymore!”

Artemis threw up his hands in frustration, and Martin let go from shock at Mathew’s outburst.

“You’re gonna be a cat and you’re gonna like it, Artemis!” Mathew shouted, waving his finger.

“I’m your mentor, not your pet!” Artemis replied. “Do you know how many concessions I have to make to you to get you to even come around?! Who the hell puts their secret base in the middle of a movie theater? Why not something elegant like a karaoke parlor?”

“Karaoke parlor? Where the hell do you think you are, Japan?” Martin wheezed.

“I just wish I had a nice girl to be in charge of, and not some film-brain like you,” Artemis said, turning and clutching his forehead.

“What’s so bad about that?” Mathew said, folding his arms.

“You’re a total airhead! You’re so stubborn! You’ve fought against me every step of the way!”

Mathew’s lips curled, and his fists balled. “I’m sorry!” he yelled. “I’m sorry I can’t just bend to your whims and whatever you say! I’m sorry that I don’t know half the shit you talk about!” Artemis turned back to face him.

“I think you two have some understandings to work out,” Martin stated quietly. Artemis and Mathew slowly turned to look at him. “But I think there’s something bigger at hand.”

On the TV behind him, footage of a tall blonde woman in golden armor played.

“The virtual reality arcade game _Cyber-Warrior Lurga_ was installed into the Swindon Crown Cinema only two days ago. Since then, players of the game have reported a variety of conditions, ranging from mild disorientation to deep migraines.”

Martin frowned as Mathew leaned closer to the screen.

“The game is a virtual reality simulation fighting game. During each session, realistic battle damage is inflicted upon the opponent avatar, the titular Cyber-Warrior Lurga. The game is scored by algorithms that measure the human player’s combat skills.”

Mathew rested his head in his palms.

“The current high score holder is the musician Mina Aino, with a near-perfect score of 999998.”

Artemis the cat pounced on Mathew, biting his shirt and pulling him away from the couch. “We are going to the theater, mister.”

“Okay, okay!” Mathew said.

* * *

Minako sat alone at the computer in the secret room of the Swindon Crown Cinema, busily typing away. She picked up a disheveled paper napkin covered in scrawlings, typed up its contents, and pushed it aside. She stood up and pulled a wired-up box over to her keyboard, pulled Draculetta’s grey gem from her pocket, and slotted it into the side  of the box. The box had seven octagonal slots on the top, in addition to the one that was filled by the grey gem.  She slammed her hand on the side, and the box roared to life. She grinned and typed a short passcode into the console, resulting in a happy beep from the machine. She stepped back and tented her hands.

The door opened, and her assistant Luna walked in with giant bags of popcorn and cups of soda.

“I can’t believe it!” Luna chattered in Japanese, setting down her spoils on a table. “I just saw a dreamy guy trying to beat that game!”

Minako groaned and buried her face in her hands.

“What? What about it? He really looked like something special.”

Minako curled her lips and picked up one of the drinks, sipping from it before setting it aside.

“You know, what if he’s one of those vessels we’re supposed to be looking for? Artemis said he found one. I don’t want to be left behind by a hair-trigger guy like him!”

Minako put a handful of popcorn onto a napkin and sat back down.

“Are you listening to me?!”

“You must be patient,” Minako said quietly. “When we find one, we’ll know. Keep only that in mind.” Luna frowned, and Minako put a piece of popcorn in her mouth. “How much did you pay for the food?”

“That’s confidential,” Luna said, curling her finger around her lip.

Minako sighed deeply and picked up her phone.

* * *

Mathew arrived at the cinema with the plush Artemis under his arm. He walked up to the large mat set aside for the Lurga game. He set the doll beside the cabinet, and fumbled in his pocket for change.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” a young man in a firm suit called from nearby. “I don’t want a loyal customer like you to get roughed up for good.”

Mathew turned around. The man held his hand out, and they shook. “Foreman. Andrew Foreman. I own this place. We’ve had a lot of trouble with this thing lately,” he said, pointing to the cabinet. “I keep trying to get it removed, but the company won’t return my calls.”

“What company made this?” Mathew asked.

“Dark Agency Games. The name sounds a little familiar to me, but I don’t know how,” Foreman said, and shrugged. “I guess you can try it. But don’t get too riled up, I suppose.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” Mathew said. The other man smiled at him and walked away.

Mathew looked down at Artemis, then pulled out a few coins. He put them into the machine, then stepped back. He pulled on the virtual reality helmet, and stood ready.

On the balcony above him, a thin young lady in bug-eyed sunglasses leaned over the railing. She looked around, then quickly tiptoed down the staircase, and disappeared into the crowd. Behind a large cardboard display, she curled into the shadows, watching Mathew.

Mathew took a deep breath, then looked into the visor. User interfaces flashed before him, and he moved to make his choices. After a moment of stillness, the cabinet screen suddenly flashed black and white, and he pulled off the helmet in alarm.

Lurga leaped into physical form out of the screen, clutching him by the shoulders. He slipped out of her grip and stepped back. She slammed her fists into his chest as he slid backwards. Mathew pulled back his sleeve, and as she reeled back to land another hit, he crossed his wrist over his elbow.

“Venus Power, Make Up!” he shouted, alerting everyone around him to his presence. In a flash of light, he was Magellan.

Her punch connected, and he scrambled back. They grappled with each other as Foreman ordered his employees around and the crowd swirled. Lurga forced Magellan against the wall by his shoulders.

“Why, you brute! I haven’t even had the pleasure of learning your name,” she said, pinning him down. He squirmed out of her grip, scrambling backwards hesitantly.

“I don’t need to identify myself to the likes of you,” he said, gasping for air.

“Now that you’ve already revealed your identity to all these people, I don’t think it’s such a large leap to take,” she said, folding her arms. “Besides, it’s not like they’re going to remember you for long after I beat you to a pulp.”

Magellan wavered, and hopped backwards onto the arcade mat. Turning around on his heels, he faced the attentive sea of puzzled looks and smartphone backs. He took a deep, hesitant breath, then a thick swallow. He turned back, pointing sharply to Lurga.

“I am the sailor-suited soldier of love and justice, Magellan. In the name of Venus, love and be loved.”

She leapt onto Magellan, forcing him to the floor. He pressed his fingers to his lips, then slammed his palms against her shoulders, sending her back. She landed perfectly on her feet.

“I am Cyber-Warrior Lurga, a true champion of justice. I’m sure I’ll convince you of that eventually.”

The lady hiding in the lobby pushed through the crowd and made her way to the front.

Lurga charged at Magellan. He dodged, and she rolled over on the floor. He sharply lifted his hand, turning his bracelet into a chain. She ran to him and swept her foot down. He blocked it with his chain, wrapped the chain around her ankle, and pulled her over. As she got up, she delivered a roundhouse kick to his legs, and he stumbled backwards. He got back up, only to have her punch him in the side.

“Pull that compact out and hit her with it!” the lady shouted, then hid in the crowd again. Magellan turned to where she was, but she was already gone. He turned to face Lurga, then hesitated. He coiled his chain in one hand, then pulled out his compact and aimed the mirror at her. She charged at him.

“Crescent Beam --” he shouted, being cut off with a sharp pull of his scarf. He still held his mirror out, and with little time to spare, he twisted, and the mirror began to glow bright white. A thick beam of yellow light shot out of it, forcing Lurga’s grip loose and throwing her back into the floor with a loud slam.

Magellan stuck the compact between his teeth, then quickly pulled out his chain. He flung it around Lurga as she stumbled back onto her feet. He weaved it through his fingers,, then pulled Lurga sharply. She fell back onto the arcade mat, writhing against the bind.

He took his compact, flipped it open, and began to move it clockwise. The plane formed, and he slammed the compact through the center. He pointed the mirror to the ceiling.

“Crescent Beam Shower! Rain down upon us!”

A blinding beam of light burst from it, splitting up into smaller beams and dropping down on everything around him.

In a flash of light, the arcade cabinet was gone. The crowd that had gathered before them slowly regained their bearings. Cameramen stopped their recordings in confusion, and chattering gawkers flipped through their phones.

Wiltshire’s Chief Constable lay on the floor, her civilian clothes rumpled. Magellan kneeled before her, unsure, then gently rocked her into consciousness. She sat up, running her fingers through her hair.

Foreman turned around, then walked up to them.

“What’s all this about?” she said, pointing around at the crowd.

“There’s been an incident,” Foreman said. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, and scratched her head. “I expect to be able to handle this,” she declared, and started to stand up, but stumbled before she could finish.

“Sir,” Foreman began. “This is a bit more complicated.”

“Complicated? This is Swindon, you ninny,” she retorted, getting herself stable on one leg. “You,” she said, pointing to Magellan. “What’s he trying to tell me?”

“For the past two days, I’d assume, you’ve been trapped inside a video game.” Magellan began nervously. “People have been getting seriously hurt due to this game, and I figured that, due to my previous experience, I might as well take matters into my own hands.”

“What are you, some kind of vigilante?” the Chief Constable mumbled. She put out her hand in a defensive gesture. “Let’s be honest, of all things I have enough faith in my men to take care of situations like -- wait, did you just say I was _trapped inside a video game_?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve gotta be _shitting me_.”

“Sir, I’ m sorry, I’m not.”

She pointed to the cameras. “Have they been on the whole time you were doing...whatever?”

“I believe so, yes.”

She rifled through her jacket pockets and produced her badge. She flagged down a young woman with a tiny digital camcorder, then fussed with it. They both suddenly hunched over in surprise, and the young woman clutched her cheeks. The Chief Constable quickly handed back the camcorder, then hustled back to the two men.

“What _are_ you?” she asked sternly, pointing at Magellan.

“Uh,” Magellan said, lifting his hands in confusion. “Um, sailor-suited soldier of love and justice? Um?"

“Listen, why aren’t you doing your derring-do back there?” she said, pointing towards the theaters. “Last time I checked, that’s where the whole magic justice thing happens. In the movies. Not in real life!”

Magellan panicked and could only express himself by gaping his mouth and flailing his wrists. “Sir? I’m sorry? I’m real! I’m sorry it’s real? It really happened! Sir!”

She promptly slapped him. “Listen! I’m going to comb every single camera in this place, and if it manages to match up, I tell you what,” she said, pointing accusingly at him and holding him captive with her penetrating gaze. He squeaked nervously, his whole body tensing.  “I might give you a job,” she finished, and his arm dropped. The other sharply jerked down, causing him to turn back into Mathew in a flash of light.

Foreman and the Chief Constable looked him up and down.

“I get you,” Foreman said, nodding.

“I get you, too,” she said slowly, her face frozen in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Mathew said, hunching over with his face in his hands.

The Chief Constable broke into a smirk, then gave Mathew a hearty pat on the back. “Good kid. Good kid,” she said. “Here’s a treat. See me tomorrow at the office.”

She gave him one last pat on the back, slipped a golden gem into his hand, then walked away, waving to Foreman.

“Well, that’s 2,000 dollars walking out the door, then,” Foreman said.

“I’m so sorry,” Mathew said, trying to hide himself.

“Take it easy,” the older man replied, “We’ve both had a long day.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Mathew said, and Foreman gave him one last look of sympathy before the girl in bug-eyed sunglasses grabbed Mathew’s arm. He snapped into alertness, though his face was still red, and she tugged at him, holding Artemis in her left arm.

“What are you doing with Art -- my doll?” Mathew said, before eating his words and spitting something else out.

“He was my doll first,” she said, then tugged him again. “Come along.”

They walked together up the staircase and past the bathrooms. The girl put a small key into the unmarked door, then unlocked it, letting Mathew in. She locked the door, then stuffed the key back into her pocket. Luna smiled at Mathew as he nervously sat down in a plush office chair. The girl took off her sunglasses, revealing her identity.

“Minako, how did no one notice it was you?” Artemis said, springing out of her arm. Minako shook her head, dismissing Artemis’s concern.

“Alright, Blondie,” Luna said, leaning over Mathew and putting her hands on his armrests. Her face was mere inches from his. “You’re gonna have to answer some questions for me.” Minako groaned.

“Y-yes?” Mathew squeaked.

“What’s-your-name-how-old-are-you-what’s-your-blood-type-do-you-speak-Japanese-do-all-English-people-have-bad-teeth-how-much-tea-do-you-drink-if-you-were-a-tree-what-tree-would-you-be-are-you-a-delinquent-what’s-your-star-sign-does-England-have-gravure-idols-what-do-you-think-of-youth-today-do-you-like-Mina’s-music-what-size-are-your-pants-do-you-like-baseball-is-Artemis-a-big-dumb-dummy?” she asked, barrelling through every word in lightning-fast succession.

“Um?” Mathew said, slouching in his chair.

“How come it’s you and not Minako?”

“I don’t know? Please don’t ask me any more questions, I’m scared,” Mathew said, his voice a squeaking, high-pitched mess.

“It’s okay. We can leave that for later.”

“Don’t make him uncomfortable,” Minako said, resting her hand on Luna’s shoulder.

“C-could have said that earlier,” Mathew whimpered.

Minako shook her head, and Artemis jumped into Mathew’s lap.

“That lady in front of you is Minako Aino. I know she’s made her share of music here, but she’ll become quite important to you soon enough,” Artemis said, as Minako smiled. “She was once Sailor Venus, your direct predecessor.”

“Surely someone like me will always be Sailor Venus?” Minako said.

“In a way,” Artemis said, flicking his ear.

She pulled the box out from behind her, carefully maneuvering around the cords.

“This is important,” she said, tapping the box with a single finger. “You defeated a monster, yes?”

“Uh, yeah?” Mathew said nervously.

“Hand me the gem.”

He pulled the bright yellow gem from his pocket, ran his thumb over it, and handed it to Minako. She put the gem in a slot on top of the box, then flicked a switch on the side.

“Surely you know of this new evil. There is one way to vanquish it,” she said, setting the box back down on the table. “To recover the Maboroshi no Ginzuishou.”

“Run that by me again, I think I lost track at ‘hello,’” Mathew said, tilting his head in confusion.

“The most powerful star to ever shine in the universe. The ancient power of the moon runs through it. A lotus crystal that glints silver.”

He sifted through the hastily-cobbled memories crammed into his brain before snapping his fingers promptly.

“I got it! Illusory Silver Crystal, and that bit.” Mathew slouched in his chair. “What about it?”

“Five years ago, it shattered to save the Earth. Today, I have started to sense it again. However, I can not find it alone.” She rested her hand on the box. “A magic-based location system lies within this hardware. As more gems are placed into the slots, it gets closer and closer to full operation.”

“Alright, then,” Mathew said, leaning forward. “Whatever you say.”

“I wouldn’t take this lightly.”

“I’m not, I’m just...you know, along for the ride. I guess I don’t have anything better to do, except...university...”

“Bloody hell,” Minako said, clutching her nose in frustration. She turned back to him. “Surely something will come through.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“I...It might follow you.”

“I’ll have other things to worry about! What am I going to do? Do I have to balance class, life, and being a hero all at once now?”

“Your life is so _simple_.” Minako’s face held back a sneer. “Five years ago, I was barely a teenager. But I was a student, an idol, a soldier of justice! Do you realize how difficult it is to do that alone?” She leaned on the table and looked intently into Mathew’s eyes. “Do you think if I chose to spend the few months I had left to live wasting away in Tokyo’s finest hospital, pampered and treated as nothing more than a doll by the fans I’d endured so much harassment and hardship to earn, you could still be around to whine about how much you have to worry about?”

Mathew crumbled beneath her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Minako stood up straight and folded her arms behind her back. “It’s impossible to overestimate the challenges this job will give you. You will overcome them, I know it. But please, think of these things in perspective.”

Mathew pressed his hand to his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Minako said. “At least you know my story now, rather than later.”

The four sat quietly in the room, each pondering on distinct thoughts. Mathew stood up from his chair.

“I guess I’ll be going, then,” he said, turning slightly to the door.

“Wait,” Minako said, holding out her palm. Mathew turned back to her. “I want to see your friend Chris the next time you come here.”

“Me, too,” Luna said, smiling at Mathew.

“I’ll try to bring him along,” Mathew said, then waved to them as he left.

He walked out of the cinema and onto the street. Before long, his phone started ringing. He flipped it open and stood aside.

“Hey, mate!” Chris said, a tone of distress in his voice.

“Hello!”

“Um, could you do me a favor? I’ve got a mean headache. Been bloody intense ever since I went and played that new game at the cinema about 2 hours ago. Then again, it could have been any time ago. I can’t fucking remember! Ugh, ouch!”

“Whoa, you don’t have to wear yourself out, there, Chris.”

“I need...what do I need? Um...Paracetamol! Yes! Please. Whatever’s the cheapest, I just need some. _Now._ ”

“How do you not have any?”

“Remember that one time last month I stayed up 2 or 3 nights in a row playing strategy games? Yeah. I ran out. Standard dosage and everything.”

“Well, I’ll take care of that for you, then,” Mathew said.

“Cheers.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Mathew closed his phone. His face twisted into a perplexed expression, but he shrugged and carried on walking.

He’d succeeded at saving the town, but he hadn’t kept Chris from getting a headache. It was hard to decide which result outweighed the other.


	3. Act 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TGWTG/Sailor Moon AU crossover. A not-so-new hero joins Mathew Buck on his first assignment as a member of the police force! Luna and Artemis discover secrets from our heroes' pasts as a key to the ancient past is revealed.

You clasp the last hook in your partner’s fancy uniform, then smooth down his jacket. You’ve made sure to make him as good-looking as you can -- well, not as if he didn’t look good in the first place. It’s just hard to get him to be “presentable”. You wag your finger at him, then tie a blindfold on his head.

  
You take his hand and tug him out of the van, with only his feet and hands to let him tell where you were going. You walk a few more steps, and he stumbles on his feet. You finally stop him, take off the blindfold, and step back.

  
Before the two of you lies an elegant marble staircase, surrounded by ivory pillars. You lift your arm and look to your left, where verdant trees hide the view out of the crystal dome into the depths of space.

  
You clasp his hands in yours and look into his eyes. His normally-olive skin has lightened, and his hair has turned to a deep black. A sameness has suddenly draped upon everyone. However, you are not concerned with the sudden change in your partner’s appearance.

  
Simply standing in the Kingdom of the Moon is a privilege that washes all other concerns away.

* * *

Chris woke up with his hands grasping each other. He quickly pulled them apart and flicked his wrists, then pulled off the bed covers and sat up. He cracked his knuckles, trying to make it seem like he’d meant to fiddle with his hands the whole time, even though nobody was around.

  
He pulled at the collar of his shirt and the hem of his trouser leg. He bit his knuckle in thought for a moment, snapping his fingers when he’d made a decision.

  
The clock on his dresser showed 12:15 in the morning. He picked his glasses up from beside the clock, put them on, walked over, and peeked out the bedroom door. He looked around, put his ear to the walls, and heard no one moving or making a sound. He reeled back in anticipation, figuring no one else was at home. 

  
Chris opened the door, adjusted the top of his socks, and ran out onto the hardwood floor, sliding along until his feet hit a rug, sending him tumbling onto the floor. He sighed, turned over, and stood back up. He scratched his head, pushed up his glasses, and turned around.

  
The mail wasn’t on the table. He made a mad dash outside to get it, and threw it onto a chair. He looked beneath the mailbox.

  
A package laid on the ground, wrapped in a traditional fashion in blue brocade. He gently picked it up, shook it, checked all over it for some kind of identification, and pressed into the sides. It appeared to hold a book, or something similar in shape. He shut the door behind him and set the package on the table, then carefully unwrapped it.

  
On top was a slip in some foreign language. Some of the writing seemed rather familiar, but Chris wasn’t able to read it. He squinted at it, trying to make sense of it. He decided instead to set the slip aside and look at what was underneath.

  
The bulk of the package was a thick journal, bound in leather, with a foreign blue script inscribed vertically on the cover. Documents and the edges of preserved plants stuck out of the sides of the book. And, strangely, it smelled not only of old paper, but also of marijuana.

  
Chris balked at the book, trying not to smell it too deeply, and quickly wrapped it back up with the slip. He carried it back into his room and threw it on the bed, then shut the bedroom door.

He quickly changed into day clothing, then turned around.

A small navy cat doll with a crescent patch on its forehead sat on top of the book. Chris balked, threw the door open, and clutched the frame as the doll came to life.

  
“What the fuck?!” he shouted.

  
“Hey, hey, calm down, cutie,” the cat said in a high-pitched woman’s voice. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  
Chris clung to the door in fright. “How did you get in here?”

  
“Seriously, Christopher, I know you’ve met Artemis. Is this really a question you have to ask me?”

  
“What? What the hell is going on? How do you know my name? Who’s Artemis?!”

  
“You can’t remember ever meeting another talking cat?”

  
“Wait a minute.” Chris slammed the door behind him and stepped up to the cat.  “The white one who lives at the theater and eats rocks?”

  
“He doesn’t eat rocks!”

  
“He told us he did!”

  
“I bet that was just an excuse to keep you from asking too many questions,” the cat said, curling her tail to her front legs. “Fair enough he did, anyway. He could have just kicked your brain’s butt like he did Buck’s. That’s a true gentleman for you.”

  
“I’m not gonna pretend like I understand that. So...if you’re both cats, then you must be his sister or something?”

  
“Goodness, no,” she said, turning her ears back. “We’re just...of the same species. I’ll be honest with you and say we’re not real cats. Well, obviously. But it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

  
In a flash of light, the cat turned into a young blue-haired Japanese woman in a yellow and navy sundress. She crossed her ankles, flipped her ponytail, and pulled the book out from under her. She read the title and tossed it aside.

  
“You got a diary. That’s kind of useless. Anyway, I’m Luna of Mau, a planet in another arm of the galaxy. Artemis and I were assigned to your Solar System during a golden age long ago. Our purpose is to record and advise the Sailor Soldiers of this system.”

  
“And what does this have to do with me?” Chris asked, sitting beside her.

  
“Well, we have two priorities right now. The Silver Crystal, which is this gigantic, powerful source of magic, has reassembled somewhere on Earth, and we have to find that in order to better fight against whatever organization’s been attacking the Earth. That’s why Artemis was pushing Buck to give him that gem. That one was the base for a geoposition system, and he doesn’t like answering too many questions.”

  
“I guess I can tell now,” Chris replied.

  
“Second priority is finding everyone who’s in possession of the crystals, and in turn, the powers, of the other planets. Instead of being with the people they’re supposed to be with, they’ve gone into other people’s bodies. We have to assemble the people with those powers, get them to fight together against the enemy, and then maybe figure out a way to get these powers back where they’re supposed to be.”

  
“What made those powers change hands? I don’t understand.”

  
“Well, okay. The people who are supposed to have these powers all died before their greater mission was complete. The theory is that whoever has their powers now died at the same time as they did, and have some kind of link to them that gives them the capability to continue their missions in their place until natural successors are born.”

  
Luna rubbed her chin briefly, then smoothed out her dress. “Minako Aino originally held the powers of Sailor Venus. She died of a terminal disease on the fourth of September, in 2004. If our suspicions are right, then Buck died on the same day. Now, something kinda weird happened to all the others, but the day it happened was around...the 25th of the same month. So, here’s my question to you,” Luna said, pointing at Chris. “What happened to you on the twenty-fifth of September, 2004?”

  
Chris gazed into Luna’s eyes, his jaw dropping slightly open. He breathed in sharply, then looked down.

  
“Um,” he whispered. His breaths grew ragged, his eyes widened, and he clutched the sheets of his bed. He scrambled out the door and dashed down the hall, leaving Luna to slowly follow him. He hurried into the kitchen, opened a bottle of alcohol, then chugged it with his other hand pulling off his glasses. He kneaded his chest as he set his bottle down, then buried his face in his hands.

  


Blurred memories of the gentle wafting of blood through the water flashed in his mind. The feeling of water-filled lungs stuck in his mind as he leaned sharply into his own arms. He ran his fingers over his long sleeves, past his shoulders, over his sides, and over his chest. Old scars throbbed slightly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

  
He looked back up to find Luna standing in the kitchen, worried.

  
“Are you okay?” she said quietly, and he turned around.

  
“I’m gonna throw you out of here if you don’t get to the point,” he said, and bit the cuff of his long sleeve. “I don’t want to talk about that stuff. Just tell me what you...broke into me bloody house for.”

  
“I’ve seen you fight,” Luna said, folding her arms. “I saw something in you. It was very clear to me that...perhaps you and Buck might share something in common.” She pulled out her ponytail, and dangled the bracelet that held it on her finger. “Take it. It’s yours. Put it on.”

  
He let go of his sleeve, then put the bracelet on over his left wrist. It clasped on tightly, and he pulled his hand back. He leaned on the counter, his eyes widening.

  
“What now?” he mumbled.

  
“Say ‘Mercury Power --”

  
“Mercury Power, Make Up,” he said quietly, putting his right wrist under his breast and his left hand onto his elbow. 

  
He spun in place on one foot, letting himself be enveloped with water and light. It changed him into another form, and as it faded away, he fell down.

  
“That wasn’t a good idea,” Luna said, standing over him. “There’s a speech to go with it. Can you think of that?”

  
Chris knocked on the floor before sitting up. “I’m the sailor-suited soldier of water and wisdom...Sailor Mercury. Shit, that’s wrong. No, fuck, um...” he said, trailing off into mumbles. “Mariner! Mariner. In the name of Mercury, dowse yourself with water and repent.”

  
“You’re gonna have to do a lot of that in the morning, now, aren’t you?” Luna remarked, before holding out a hand to Mariner. “Good man. Let’s hope you’re sober before anything happens.”

  
Mariner took Luna’s hand and stood up, barely steadying himself.

  
“Got anythin’ else?” Mariner murmured.

  
“Do you drink all the time?”

  
“It’s nothing,” he replied, shakily setting his hand on the counter. “Helps me forget all the bad stuff every once in a while.”

  
“That might not be too convenient,” Luna said, tenting her fingers. “There are a lot of risks involved with this sort of job. Not a lot of room for vice besides something petty, like video games or eating. You better be careful.”

  
“Uh-huh,” Mariner said, before stifling himself. “Lemme remind you who got me here in the first place --”

  
“I’m sorry, I won’t bother you about it again,” Luna said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m just telling you. There is quite a lot of room for things to go wrong when a man’s in control of a planet’s Sailor Crystal in the first place. I’d hate to be on the wrong end of whatever happens when a guy’s tangled up in a vice.”

  
“Don’t act so superior,” Mariner slurred. “You don’t understand --”

  
“I’m looking out for you. Don’t underestimate my knowledge.” Luna flicked Mariner’s forehead, then turned around and walked to the door. “I’ll call you when we need you,” she said, and left Chris’s house.

  


Mariner stood up straight and steadied himself. He smoothed out his uniform and tugged at his blue scarf. His pale blue shirt was tucked neatly into his high-waisted shorts. His bare thighs shone slightly in the kitchen lamp’s light. His legs turned in slightly, and the soft leather straps of his gladiator sandals rubbed against the backs of his knees. He leaned over and looked at himself in the microwave’s reflection.

  
His hair was light blue, and he jumped. He scratched at his head, trying to look all around it, but his hair, from root to tip, was the same pale blue as his shirt. He nudged at the blue wreath on the back of his head, nearly knocking its clip loose, and he smoothed out his hair again.

  
He looked into his reflection, dazed, then sunk as he sighed.

* * *

Luna hustled into the Swindon Crown Theater, ignoring everyone around her as she burst into the secret base.

  
“I’m guessing you found him,” Artemis said, sitting calmly in an office chair.

  
“He was drunk!”

  
“Mine’s a punk. Join the club,” Artemis replied, tenting his fingers.

  
“At least I got it right,” Luna said, flopping into the chair next to Artemis. “Christopher Barnard, Buck's friend. He’s Mercury. Got him to transform and everything. But he was drunk the whole time.”

  
“Why?” Artemis asked.

  
“I set him off by accident. I was asking him what happened to him when he died, and all that stuff, and he freaked out.”

  
“Don’t do that!” Artemis shouted, shaking his hands. “Just read his mind or something -- I figured out how Buck died that way. The whole death thing is not acceptable territory for these guys.”

  
“How did Buck die?”

  
“I’m not telling anybody but Minako. It’s for the best,” Artemis said. “Plus I don’t want to make him freak out or anything.”

  
“You know, guys are so screwed up,” Luna said, slouching in her chair. “I wish, even if they were different people, we could have girls doing this job. That’s the way it’s meant to be. Things would be so much easier.”

  
“Girls, every one of them, are hiding something in their heart,” Artemis said, tapping the table. “Like...putting on a brave face, when they really just want to cry. Even if they’re smiling and staring, they aren’t only sweetness. That’d get them hurt. And if you peek into their hearts, guys are strange too. They’ve never been simple.”

  
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Luna said, turning to Artemis and giving a reverent smile.

  
“Yeah.”

* * *

Mathew answered his phone.

  
“Matt! Hey! You have no idea what just happened,” Chris answered, his speech slightly impeded.

  
“Um, hey, what happened?”

  
“I bit my tongue a minute ago ‘cuz I was too drunk to know any better, and I started bleeding, right? And I stuck my finger in  my mouth, and I pull it out, and I see this stream of stuff coming from my finger. I just keep pulling my hand back, and now I’m holding a big ball of some kind of weird swirly liquid stuff. Kinda clear-ish. Smells like alcohol. Probably is.” He paused for a moment. “It is.”

  
“What the hell? Are you joking or something?” Mathew asked, raising his eyebrow.

  
“No, really, I’ve got this thing in my hand. And I don’t feel all woozy anymore. But I have a headache.”

  
“Did you run out of pills again? I just bought you a big bottle of them last month,” Mathew said, folding his arms.

  
“No, no, mate, I’m fine. Oh, incidentally, a blue-haired girl just stopped by. Asked weird questions, gave me this bracelet. Now I’m standing here, dressed up like an idiot, holding a ball of alcohol in my hand like I’m a waterbender at the Pride parade or something.”

  
“Blue-haired girl? Was she Asian?”

  
“Yeah. Her name was Luna.”

  
“And you were talking to her while you were drunk?”

  
“Um, yeah. Don’t want to talk about that.”

  
“I don’t want Artemis to come around and barge into my house and scratch up all my furniture because you hit on -- Fuck!” Mathew yelled, as the window loudly flew open. Artemis the cat hopped onto his bed, and the window shut. “Don’t tell me,” he said, holding his hand to the phone receiver.

  
“Your friend doesn’t seem like the kind of person who hits on girls when he’s drunk, don’t worry about that,” Artemis said, waving his tail. “I just wanted to reach this foregone conclusion and tell you that you two will be working together at all times possible from now on. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

  
“Chris?” Mathew asked over the phone. “Are you...?”

  
“Luna made me remember some speech about being a sailor-suited soldier of water and wisdom. Like yours, but a little different.”

  
“Huh,” Mathew said. “Well I guess that’s alright, then.”

  
“Yep. I guess I’ll be around when I need you. Just gotta figure out what to do with all this booze,” Chris said. “See you.”

  
“Bye,” Mathew said, and hung up. Artemis sat next to him.

  
“Two planets left,” Artemis said. “Jupiter and Mars. Then the Moon. Once they’re all together, we’ll be at our full power. We can fight as one and vanquish the enemy. Then our mission will be finished.”

  
“So...water and wisdom, then? That’s Mercury?”

  
“Has he ever really seemed all that wise to you?”

  
“He can be. I’ve never been much of a romantic either. Never really fallen in love, not even had that much of an attraction to anyone. But I still manage to have it.”

  
“That’s true,” Artemis said, his ears turning back for a moment.

  
Mathew’s phone rang, and he picked it up.

  
“Hello, Magellan!” Chief Constable Hudson chimed. “I’ve got a job for you. Should be no problem.”

  
“Yes, sir,” Mathew said, sitting up straight.

  
“We’ve been receiving reports of a haunting at a hotel down the road,” Hudson began. “Supposedly, every couple who’s stayed the night at the seventh room on the second floor since June has been attacked by two ghosts. They’re described as a man and woman in traditional Japanese wedding outfits. One attacks people with a crook and the other has a pair of needles. The hotel’s taken photos of the wounds sustained by guests.”

  
“And you’re sure it’s not actually living people who are doing this?”

  
Hudson sighed deeply. “The story seems to be true. I had one of the interns stay there with his girl to check it out, and he recorded the whole thing. It was pretty awful.”

  
“When do you want me there?”

  
“We’ve booked you for tomorrow night,” she said promptly. “In retrospect, we should have asked if you were dating anybody, but I’m sure you can handle that. I mean, you’re a superhero. Who wouldn’t want to get with you?”

  
“I can make a plan, sir. I’ll be there.”

  
“Good kid. Wish you luck.”

  
“Yes, sir,” Mathew said hesitantly, and the call ended. He stood up, walked to his closet, and started picking clothes and throwing them onto the bed. Artemis jumped down and scampered over to Mathew.

  
“You’re so obedient around her! And you argue with me when I tell you to do something!” Artemis said, batting at Mathew’s leg. “What’s wrong with you?”

  
“A, you aren’t paying me for this, and she is. B, you don’t have legal authority, and she does. C, you make something up when I ask you something outside of the information you _forcefully and painfully_ crammed into my head, whereas she calmly and rationally explains the situations she puts me in.”

  
“Why don’t you take a hint from all those movies you waste all your time watching and follow me without making any hassle, film-brain? After all, I’m the one who knows what’s best --”

  
Mathew picked Artemis up gently, opened the window, dumped the cat out into the bushes, and locked the window shut. He picked up a stiff wooden stool and set it in front of his door, then calmly packed his bag with a night’s worth of clothing and supplies. He sat beside the bag on his bed and dialed Chris.

  
“Hello?” Mathew said.

  
“Hello -- didn’t expect you to call back so soon. What’s up?”

  
“The police are putting me on an assignment, but Artemis wants me to bring you around from now on. They’ve booked a room for me and another person for tomorrow night. Is that alright with you?”

  
“Uh...sure, if you need me. Rather short notice, but I can deal with it.”

  
“Yeah, I know, right? The Chief Constable just called me a little while ago,” Mathew said, and shifted around on the bed.

  
“What’s the situation?”

  
“Well...”

* * *

Chris finished his call, tented his fingers, and curled his toes with glee as he set his phone down. He bounced a little in his seat, then turned around. He picked up a bag, threw it on the bed, and carefully looked through his dresser. He pulled a pair of slacks from a drawer, stuck it under his arm, then tossed a few more pairs into the bag. He pulled a fistful of socks and underwear from another drawer, then stuffed them into the bag. He threw the strange diary in, then some sundries. He turned around on his foot constantly, and nearly fell over.

  
Wiping his brow, he opened his wardrobe. He gently took a striped black shirt off its hanger, folded it neatly, and put it on top of the messy pile in his bag. He took a blue shirt by the hanger and hung it on a hook beside him, throwing the pants he’d been saving onto it. He looked at himself in the mirror, frowned slightly at himself, and walked away.

  
Chris bustled out of his room, hastily shutting the door behind him. 

  
His brother stood and stared blankly at him.

  
“What’re you in such a rush for?” he asked Chris.

  
“Mathew and I are doing a...a thing tomorrow,” Chris mumbled.

  
“Doing a thing? What kind of thing?”

  
“Don’t get any ideas, Joe. I have to help him with his job tomorrow. I have to stay the night.”

  
“Good luck with your date, then,” Joe said, folding his arms.

  
“It’s not a date,” Chris said, gritting his teeth.

  
“You want some flowers to take to him?”

  
“No! No, I don’t!”

  
“I’ll leave you to your beauty routine, then.”

  
Chris sighed deeply, then turned away and limply walked into the bathroom.

* * *

The next evening, Mathew fumbled with the hotel’s key card, trying and failing to put it in the slot. Chris caught up to him, took the card from his hand, and opened the door smoothly.

  
“Thanks, mate,” Mathew whispered, and Chris held the door for him. The two men walked into the hotel room. Mathew’s bag slid off his shoulder and landed loudly on the floor.

  
There was one bed.

  
Mathew rifled through his pockets and pulled out his phone. Hudson tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around quickly, throwing up his hands.

  
“I didn’t think you were going to bring a friend,” she said sharply.

  
“I didn’t think this room had one bloody bed,” Mathew said, his voice straining. “This isn’t even nice enough of a place to give people a couch, or a cot, or something!”

  
“Well, no dice, kid,” Hudson said. “Maybe you’ll luck out. Two people in one bed with some degree of emotional connection between each other might just work.” She sighed and pulled back her hair. “At least you look like you’re together. I see him, looking all clean and crisp, and you’re here looking like you just woke up. It’s perfect.”

  
Mathew raised his eyebrow while Chris folded his arms.

  
“Have fun with your sleepover, then, you two. Make sure you get those ghosts for us!” Hudson chimed, waving sweetly to the two men.

  
“Yes, sir,” Mathew said, nodding his head.

  
Hudson shut the door behind her, leaving the two men to look around the room alone. Chris set his bag down beside the bed, then turned to Mathew.

  
“This is gonna be really awkward,” Chris mumbled.

  
“I think we established that,” Mathew said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “I get the left side. It’s closer to the door.”

  
“If that’s what you want,” Chris said softly. “Does Hudson know you’re not just some glorified exorcist?”

  
“She would know what I do, Chris, both of us tried and failed to beat her in a fight only a month ago. Well, I didn’t necessarily fail, but she had quite the advantage over me. And she certainly had an advantage over you.”

  
“Don’t be so hasty to say that.”

  
“Yeah, I’ll hear that later, Mr. Number 10 on the high-score list. You were only 50,000 points behind Minako.”

  
“She got _a perfect score_.”

  
“I’ll give you that.”

  
“You didn’t even make it on the list and you’re supposed to be doing her job now!”

  
“I didn’t make it on the list because I broke the machine!”

  
A thin white hand came from the wall and gently touched the back of the television, setting a needle on the top of the CRT’s screen.

Chris and Mathew stared at the hand as it passed back into the wall, then looked at each other.

  
“I need a shower,” Chris said flatly.

  
“I’ve got your back,” Mathew replied.

  


Mathew flipped through the pages of the ancient diary as Chris walked up to the bed. He pulled the towel from his head and tossed it aside, then pulled down the hem of his t-shirt and smoothed his hands over his shorts. He flopped onto the bed, pulled a pillow from under his head, and hastily squeezed it and nuzzled it.

  
“Don’t fall asleep yet. I found something in this book. Look at this,” Mathew said, and pulled a photograph from the page.

  
Two men stood next to each other in front of a van retrofitted with jet engines. A dark-skinned blond man and a shorter, blue-haired man embraced each other. The taller man laid a hand on his partner’s shoulder and held a joint in the other. Both were smiling gently into each other’s eyes.

  
“I’ve been seeing these guys in my dreams,” Mathew said, and put the photo back into the book.

  
“I saw that van in a dream a couple of nights ago. And I think I saw the tall guy too.”

  
“I wonder what their story is.”

  
“When I got that book, Luna told me it was a diary. So I guess, if I can find out how to read it someday, we can find out what it’s about...” 

  
Chris trailed off, then shut his eyes, falling limply onto Mathew’s chest. Mathew shrugged, shifted around, and laid a protective hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  


The hours passed as the two gracefully slept. A butterfly flapped against the window, and a ghostly hand slipped out from the wall, giving way to a full figure of a Japanese bride. Her dress, unusually, was filled with pins and needles. She pulled a needle from her skirt, then crept up to the pair. She threw her hand back to strike.

  
Chris’s eyes snapped open, and he pulled the blanket off the bed and flung it over the ghost. He pulled it away, and the ghost was gone. He furrowed his brow as Mathew steadily woke up.

  
“They’re here,” Chris whispered, and picked up a needle from the floor. He quickly snapped around and threw it into a shepherd ghost on the other side of the bed. The two men scrambled out of the bed, and Mathew stood firmly in front of Chris.

  
“Venus Power, Make Up!”

  
“Mercury Power, Make Up.”

  
Magellan leapt on the bed and looked around as Mariner rushed into the bathroom.

  
“What are you doing?” Magellan called.

  
“Nothing,” Mariner said, turning on the sink.

  
Magellan turned around quickly as the bride ghost appeared behind him, and he crossed his fingers over his lips. He attempted to slam her back, but his hands passed through her body as she disappeared.

  
“Mercury Aqua Blizzard,” Mariner said calmly, and a massive blast of ice came from his palms.

  
Magellan looked back up as snow rushed around the shepherd ghost, quickly encasing him in ice.

  
“Magic created this ice, so it keeps the ice together. If this occurred naturally it wouldn’t keep the ghost in at all. And if you tried to hit the ghost, nothing would happen,” Mariner mumbled as he lifted the block of ice calmly. “Behind you.”

  
Magellan ducked as Mariner flung the block of ice into the other ghost, then melted and formed the ice with gestures, encasing the other ghost in it. 

  
“Do your thing before I lose my focus. Don’t worry.”

  
Magellan pulled his compact out and opened it. He moved it in a circle, slammed it through the plane that formed, and pointed it to the ceiling. 

  
“Crescent Beam Shower! Rain down upon us!”

  
A thick beam shot from the mirror, splitting into rays and falling upon the ghosts. In a flash of light, the ice had disappeared, and they were gone. In their place, a violet gem laid on the floor. Mariner rested his arms, then walked up to the gem. He picked it up, turned it in his hand, then handed it to Magellan. 

  
“That concludes it, then,” Mariner said, and ran his fingers through his hair, flicking his wrist as he pulled it down. He changed back into Chris with a burst of light.

  
Magellan looked at Chris, his jaw hanging a little, then straightened himself out. “Um. Good work, mate.”

  
“My pleasure.”

* * *

Some time later, Mathew and Chris calmly walked into the Swindon Crown, rushing slightly to get upstairs. They slipped into the secret base. Luna turned around in her chair with her hands folded, politely smiling at the two men.

  
“You’ve done well, haven’t you?” she said, holding her hand out.

  
“Basically,” Mathew grunted, rifling through Chris’s bag for the gem. He pulled it out, blew on it, rubbed it, and placed it in Luna’s hand.

  
“Excellent,” she replied, then stuck the gem into its slot in the box. She typed into the console, and it switched to a black-and-green map of Earth. She entered a command, and the violet gem lit up, and the map was redrawn.

  
“So the location of the Silver Crystal is apparently in the northern hemisphere. That helps...a little.” Luna said, and turned back to the two. “You’ll have to collect more for the tracking system to get more specific. I’m sure that’ll be no trouble for you two, though.” She stood up and embraced both of them. “Good work.”

* * *

Florence Sparr’s heels clacked against the floor of the Dark Agency as she steadily walked to a locked door. She pulled out her keys, opened the door, and shut it behind her.

  
A curtain covered a dusty rack behind cleaning supplies in the closet. Sparr pulled it away, and took a book from the rack.

It was made of crystal, and had solid edges instead of pages. She opened it, and a holographic display flickered to life before her.

  
A young man in white appeared in a desaturated hologram, and spoke in a strange alien language. “Identification needed.”

  
“Fluorite. Glory to Metallia,” she replied in the tongue.

  
“Very well. You have accessed the personal logs of Adonis Melinoe. What is your inquiry?”

  
“Identify Oneiropompus Maius-juventas.”

  
“Oneiropompus Maius-juventas. Male. Polar Mercurian. White skin, blue hair, blue eyes. Life-bond tattoo on left arm. Born on the fourth day of the twelfth lunar month 5,380 years after the death of Krechet, died on the twelfth day of the fifth lunar month of year 5,400, in the Battle of Zondes. Close associates: Paris Ashtoret, Princess of Mercury Visucia Amalthea Maia-penthesilea, Prince Phillip of Ganymede, Adonis Melinoe, Ni Aleui. Occupation: Homemaker, traveler, writer. Author of the only work by a Polar Mercurian housed in the Mercurian Royal Library, the Diary of Oneiropompus.”

  
“Identify the Diary of Oneiropompus.”

  
“Diary of Oneiropompus Maius-Juventas. Journal-based work. Recording of the travels of its author and his life-bonded partner, Paris Ashtoret. One of very few records of Polar Mercurian culture in existence. A copy was unearthed in Kainess, Switzerland earlier this year.”

  
“Where is it?”

  
“Its current location is unknown. Records say the last sighting was in the collection of your personal artifact dealer.”

  
Florence’s lips curled in disgust. “Further information won’t be needed. Thank you for your services.”

  
“Glory to Metallia.”

  
“Glory to Metallia.”

  
She sharply shut the book, then shoved it back on the shelf. She stormed out of the closet, walked back to her desk in a hurry, then pulled her phone up and dialed it. She gripped the table in anger as the phone on the other line picked up.

  
“Williams,” she said, her voice laced with rage.

  
“Yes, ma’am? May I help you?”

  
“Your team unearthed an ancient Mercurian book. Why have I not received it?”

  
“Um... Which book, ma’am?”

  
“The Diary of Oneiropompus. I paid for all of the books you recovered. I want an answer.”

  
“I can explain, ma’am --”

  
“Then do it,” she said, hissing slightly.

  
“A...a ghost came to me the night before I mailed the rest of the books to you. It was a woman in white, with long black hair...she spoke to me, ordering me to send it to its rightful owner. She told me that, if I didn’t do as she said, I’d ‘die before I could do good again.’”

  
“Is that exactly what she said?”

  
“Yes, ma’am,” he said nervously.

  
“Did she give you her name?”

  
“Zondes Serenity.”

  
Florence reeled, blinked, and leaned over her desk.

  
“Did she tell you who its rightful owner was?”

  
“Christopher Barnard.” There was a long pause as Florence straightened herself out.

  
“Very well. Ensure that this does not happen again. We will always be watching you.”

  
“Yes, ma’am.”

  
Florence hung up, then walked to the large glass window in the back wall of her office. She sighed, steadied herself, and gazed down into the streets of Swindon.


End file.
